Central High School - Interlude Yearbook (South Bend, IN)

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THE INTERLUDE ill manner become in every way that no lady of nobility ever entered the theater without a mask, although her rank was clearly betrayed by the profusion of jewelry which she wore, upon the quantity of which fashion had pre- scribed no limit. Nor were the men in that age more chary of splendor than their ladies. W'ide, embroidered collars, jewel-bedecked doublets, gold and silver shoe buckles, wide hats, and ample cloaks of the most expensive fashion, were everywhere in vogue. In direct contrast with all this social splen- dor was the rudeness and primitive aspect of the play-houses themselves. The stage, cov- ered with rushes and extending far out into the audience room, was but partly protected from the weather. A small alcove at the back, hidden from view by a scant curtain, was the only available doorway, and through this the actors were accustomed to make both their en- trance and exit. There were very few stage properties. A rude throne, a rough table, and a bench or two, were usually the best that could be had, although wooden animals were sometimes included among the other theatri- cal necessities, and some few mechanical de- vices were used, such as a pullev with which to raise the ghosts or gods to heaven,,' and a trap-door in the floor, which, when occasion re- quired, would serve either as an entrance for spirits or as a grave. Owing to the small di- mensions and limited facilities of the stage, whole armies were often represented by as few as six men, and prologues were introduced to give the audience a more concise idea of the progress and surroundings of the plot, such an insertion being especially necessary when ac- tion was complicated or change of scene fre- quent, since this prologue, or chorus as Shake- speare terms it, and a scroll displayed at one end of the platform were the sole means of an- nouncing the place of action. Any further background could be supplied only by the list- ener's imagination. The acting was almost as rude as the scenerv --little, if any, discrimination being used in the choice of costumes. The actor who recited the prologue usually wore a long black robe, and the garb of a comedian was even more fantas- tic than that of a modern clown. Even the more important characters were sometimes crudely represented. Brutus and Cassius ap- peared in the second scene of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar with Spanish cloaks instead of Roman togas, and contrary to the Latin cus- tom of being unarmed within the capitol, car- ried their swords throughout the dialogue. No women were allowed on the stage. instead, when such a character as Juliet came in, the audience found themselves applauding an awk- ward, shambling boy in petticoats, who was embraced with the imminent hazard of brush- ing the brick-dust off his cheeks: the villain's moustache was a black streak made by burnt corkg while the knight had only to draw a sliirtover his coat and the gifted audience saw at once a suit of mail blazoned with some heraldic device. So versatile was their imag- ination that an actor besprinkled with plaster might represent a stone wall in one scene and by carrying a lantern, be received as the moon in the next. , Another unique and seemingly obstructive fashion of the time -was the presence of spec- tators on the stage. Nobles and distinguished courtiers were admitted to this privilege by every company and asserted their superiority again and again by interrupting the actors and criticising either their method of performing or the literary value of some especial scene. Imagine a present-day actor turning his back deliberately on one division of his audience, crowding past another, and hearing the oaths and wranglings of the third above his declama- tion, and you have at least a partial concep- tion of the inconvenience which the early drama tolerated. Men played cards on the stage as coolly as they would have done in a private tavern, decorum and attention were unknown terms, and the plan of the theater it- self was such as to give the spectators the least commodiogus point of view. In the midst of all these conditions the Elizabethan drama continued to thrive for years with no abatement of its intense and growing popularity. its appeal was made to rich and poor alike ,and there was scarcely an Englishman in the seventeenth century who was not the-,passionate devotee and patron of the London stage. So that in this the least fastidious age of history, the greatest dramas of the world were written. Having broken away from the old Greek and Roman custom of maintaining a single unity of time and place, there was nothing left which might re- tard dramatic growth. On the other hand. the demand made upon the imagination by poor scenery, with the consequent betterment of every play where words were compelled to do the duty which the modern canvas now nsurpsg the fact that every author of import- ance was an actor as well as a writer: and the very simplicity of the stage itself which could accommodate any amount of imagery, repre- senting the cliffs of Dover as veraciously as the English channel, or the Roman forum as truly as an linglish throne-room, made the drama one of intense emotion, spontaneity, and freedom, such as has been eqnaled in no late age. much less surpassed. TnUsA REAM, '10,

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10 THE, INTERLUDE the lives in this country whose happiness is at stake with the character of the legislation that is here enacted. Wie should love this na- tion far too well to allow one jot or tittle to be abated from its sacred honor. Shall we crush to the earth and trample in the dust the faith that our forefathers over a century and a quar- ter ago established on this continent? Are we to flaunt in the faces of those serene dwellers in their orbs on high the ruins of the once cherished treasure for which they spent their fortunes, their talents, and their blood? I stand at sunset and I hear in the dust at my feet the slithering of countless serpents grovelling, with greedy, glittering eyes upon their prey. And then I look off to the distant mountain peaks and hear the cry of the eagle, that noble bird of freedom, as it soars to its nest among the rocks. That picture is before me now as I think of the men of this nation-those who are not true patriots, who would not sacrifice their lives in the glare of the cannon's mouth, men who love the dark and hate the light: men who sacrifice the nation's welfare for personal gain. They are all alike infamous. But there is the patriot who loves the nation and his peo- ple, who is full of honor, truth, and integrity, standing erect where freedom reigns supreme. Let us all strive to enlist ourselves in the ranks of the patriot citizens and set our ideals at a noble height toward which to aspire, keeping always in mind those manly virtues which have assisted in building nations and which have reared the walls of mighty people. I hope I have not encroached upon your time. I have made these remarks with malice toward no one. I believe I have pointed out the situation as it is. I hope that some of you will consider what I have said: and when I go from your midst I wish you all to remember this short talk I have made today. 1 want you all to love our nation: and in kindness and friendship to remove all lines of hatred and dis- sension. I thank you, Senators, for your attention. CHANci2Lr.oR IXIOSCIIELL, President of the Class of 1910. THE GLOBE THEATRE AND PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE'S TIME HEXAGONAL, tower-like building, 17'I,f,y surrounded by a muddy ditch fash- ioned after the mediaeval moat, and only partially covered by a shelf-like roof projecting inward along the top of the tower and leaving a huge six-sided hole in the center, through which the rain might stream at will, such was the theater in which Shake- speare acted and for which he wrote his plays. It stood outside the center of Ishndon in the midst of a scattered settlement of old-fashioned houses with straight fronts, peaked gables, and tiny square-paned windows. Thebroad pathway which wound up along the river bank among green meadows and scrubby trees. was almost picturesque, but the theater itself was wholly unattractive. As far up as the height of an ordinary house the walls were perfectly plain and bare, and even the two rows of windows beginning at that point only gave a rude and barbarous appearance to the whole edifice. From a lodge built on one of the six corners a red flag fluttered, and from here the blast of a trumpet, announcing the hour of performance, sounded almost every afternoon. Even a stranger unacquainted with London customs, soon found that the foulest weather had apparently no effect on the English play- goers. Through drizzling rain and scorch- ing heat, the long row-boats still darted to and fro along the Thames. Boatmen shouting out the direction of their intended course in such Dhrases as Westward, ho, or Northward, ho, thronged the waterways, while others, having drawn their boats up close to the shore, kept calling at the top of their voices, Pass- age for the Globe Theater, Passage for the lllackfriars Theater, and a dozen other cries, indistinguishable in the general din. Cour- tiers and nobles, resplendent in velvet cloaks and jeweled doublets, jostled good-humoredlv against the ragged apprentice or professional beggar in the general throng along the shore. Once inside the theater, however, the dis- tinction between rich and poor was more sharply drawn. The lower class invariably sought the pit, a rude floor several feet lower than the stage. and placed directly beneath the open portion of the roof, while the covered gal- leries, ranged along the back and sides of the stage, were occupied by the more artistocratic populace. In the pit there were neither benches nor stools and even in the galleries these commodities were a decided scarcity, al- though they might, with much persuasion, be obtained for an extra shilling or two. Under these circumstances, even the wealthier audi- ence followed the example of that in the pit. and flinging thmselves on the Hoor, plaved cards, drank, or swore with as much energy as any of their lesser countrymen. In fact. an ac- complished courtier's quarreling with the rab- ble in the pit was no unusual thing, and for want of better missiles, apples, nutshells, and even beer-cans were often flung at random by contending parties. llrawls among the listen- ers were common. If an actor displeased them, they interrupted his soliloquv to tell him so. and instances are recorded where a disgusted mob bore the unlucky dramatist to the nearest tavern, and there subjected him to' all man- ner of buffoonery. In fact, so rude had their

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I2 THE INTERLUDE 1 1 CLASS HISTORY 1 1 E51 UTWARDLY it was a clear sunshiny E351 day-that wonderful day when we feyfail found ourselves through with grade work and ready to approach the goal of our ambition-High School. Inwardly, too, joy and excitement reigned: that is, before we reached the inside of the big building which was to be our school home, for what seemed then an interminable length of time-four years-though a few hours of our new home- life sufticed to dampen our high spirits, and to make every one of us long for the eighth grade and Mr. Byers. Such confusion as greeted us! Loud talking, lockers banging, students hurrying to and fro! How lonely we all felt! Groups of us stood here and there, dejectedly huddled together, talking in low tones and dreading the morning's ordeal. Then the great gong sounded. and tiniidly we approached the Assembly Hall. where, after all had seated themselves, Mrs. Dakin read off a long list of recitations, upon which most of us vainly attempted to take notes. Then Mr. Neff informed us a period of ten minutes would be spent in each recitation room, in which time we were to get the following day's assignment, the books to be used, etc. And it was with this part of the program that our troubles began. The upper classmen, especially the Sopho- mores and those who had so recently been very fresh Freshies, began their usual tac- tics. XVe were informed that the lockers were receiving vaults for Freshies and advised to beware of opening the same. Hair-raising tales were told us in a very tragic manner concerning the skeleton standing in Miss Montgomery's room, and one of us is even reported to have peeped cautiously at it through the door and wondered whether or not we ever looked like that. VVe were hailed generally as Fresh: called waving fields of green: advised to drink milk for our health: forced to run the gauntlet along the halls and stairways: directed to Mrs. Dakin's room as Miss Dunbar's room and made to act out all those one-act farces in which the majority of every Freshman class is forced, although not according to its own will, to take leading roles. But a few days of such torture, and our elders tired of their pranks and left us in peace. XVe began to breathe freely again, and to gain our old-time self-confidence. The work established itself in its given order, and we were feeling fully as important as any one else in the school fthough it is highlv probable we were the only ones who felt thusl. All of us had high ideals then. All of us were going to be valedictorians, winners of the Thrush- Fassett medal, and some of us-a very few of us-have attained those ideals: and others-well, others of us have fallen very far short of them. Little else was done that year other than acquainting ourselves with our teachers, learn- ing the ins and outs of High School life, and the holding of the single Freshman meeting for organization. Officers were elected at this time: Lawrence Romine, President: Ollie Kern, Vice-President: Allen Hack, Secretary: Tom Reed, Treasurer: James Reynolds, Nar- shall. Though this was our last meeting, we nevertheless felt more closely banded together. and had occasion demanded it, the world should have known that a loyal Freshman class existed. Our second year was, perhaps, the least eventful of all. We had safely passed our in- fant stage, and though most of us still re- garded the dignified Seniors with some degree of awe, we were also conscious of our rise to third place from top. XVe are especially proud of the fact that we were the first Sophomore class in the history of the school to give a hay- ride. Most of us remember that outing as a very lively one: for some of the Seniors and Juniors who did not deem it wise that such small children as the Sophs of 1910 be permit- ted to journey seven miles in the country alone, awaited our coming at a conveniently dark place along the road. where, at the psychologi- cal moment, they assailed us, and, failing to find seat room, followed in our wake upon shank's mare fpresumably to be in our delight- ful company, though it is very probable a de- sire for some of the good eats,' which they knew were aboard, was as good a reason as anyl. Nor are we willing to concede that hay- rides were the only things which interested the Sophs: for they proved their loyalty to class and school by entering everything in the shape of athletics, and in doing their share in boosting the societies and glee clubs of which they were members. Hut time Flies, and soon we had passed from that period of knowing not that we know not into that of knowing not that we know or that jolliest of all years-the Junior year. The class organized rather slowly that year: in fact, our class elections became a standing joke in the school, for it took three different sets of nominations to satisfy the Board of Control. Tint those finally chosen served us ably: Chancellor Moschell. Presi- dent: Bess Miller, Vice-President: Everett Carr, Secretary: Horace Russell, Treasurer, and Ambrose Strong, Marshal. Then came our hay-ride. We were royally entertained at the home of our classmate, Ar- zie Parett, five miles beyond Mishawaka. But a bare mention of this need be made. for who can forget the good time we had? Most of us were ashamed to look a pop-corn ball or a